


New Life

by chris--daae (AILiSeki)



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Gen, Reincarnation, Soulmates, friendships, modern days, occasional mentions of child abuse, unrelated people becoming a family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 20:07:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9674114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AILiSeki/pseuds/chris--daae
Summary: Every person has the right to a new life. A new chance, to forgive and be forgiven. To fix past mistakes. Also known as The Reincarnation AU.





	1. Chapter 1

He opened his eyes. Another nightmare.  
They came very often. Erik was not one to confess his fears, but like every human being he was afraid of many things. Sleep itself was one of them, partly because of the nightmares. Erik would go to bed very late, and spend a long time distracting himself before actually trying to sleep.  
Erik was also not very fond of darkness. It was not that he feared that there was something hiding there, but the dark itself felt suffocating. He could stand keeping the lights off to sleep but it was not comfortable. Even the small lights of the alarm clock or the led of the tv would help. But some nights when it stormed the power would go out and it was really hard. Having a candle was comforting, the light sound of fire and the scent relaxed Erik. But his roommate wouldn't alow him to keep it overnight because it was dangerous. He wouldn't complain when he could barely pay his part of the rent.  
Erik's nightmares included a lot of darkness. And a lot of bad memories. A particular caretaker from the orphanage who was said to beat kids who misbehaved. His adoptive guardian, the smell of her liquor, her laugh and her friends' loud voices. Many years had passed but some details were still so alive in his mind. Sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night in so much pain that it took a while to remember where he was.  
But his mind was creative enough to come up with new scenarios too. Fear didn't make Erik scream or cry, but he often felt breathless. As if his throat was closing. Sometimes his nightmares included being locked in a closet or small box, and it just made it worse. Others, he heard the sound of water, like a distant river. He could hear it even awake, echoing in his mind, and he swore it would drive him mad someday.  
Nights were really horrible for Erik, and the frequent rains and storms just made it worse. Suffocating in nightmares and fears, he suffered in silence. He couldn't bring himself to tell anyone about it, not that he had many friends anyway. Partly it was his stubborness, his desire to be above such pitiful feelings, but there was something else there too, something he couldn't explain. He faced his demons the same way a spoiled child faced doing his homework or eating his vegetables. It was unpleasant but had to be done, either in the easy or the hard way. When finally the morning came and the soft daylight entered the room, he swallowed it up and faced a new day.


	2. Chapter 2

That talk could not wait any longer. All the preparations were done, and now that Iman officially graduated, he knew he couldn't avoid it anymore.  
He found his roommate in the living room, headphones on, his mind in the clouds like always.  
It has been three years and something since Iman started sharing the small apartment with the strange man. He remembered their first meeting in details like it has been just yesterday.  
  
It was a rainy and cold night. His teacher kept the class until late. All Iman wanted was a warm bath and his comfy bed. But when he entered the building, he stopped. There was a man in the reception, talking with the owner. He was wet, probably failed to protect himself from the rain. He was tall and very thin, and was dressed in all black: coat with hoodie and large pants. Iman couldn't see his face, as the hoodie created a shadow that covered most of it. The man also carried a small and simple black bag.  
Iman himself was wet, and it was getting too cold. But he didn't hurry to the stairs to get to his apartment. He stayed in the corner, listening to the talk in front of him.  
The man was trying to rent a place to stay. The owner was asking him to pay the amount of a full month's rent right away, but it seemed the man had only enough for half. Iman knew he wouldn't accept it.  
It was an impulse, really. For all he knew, that man could be dangerous. He could be a gangster, a thief, a drug addict. Iman owed him nothing. Still the impulse came, and before he could stop himself, the words were out. He suggested that the man shared his apartment. The man quickly accepted, and after some thought the owner did too.  
Iman still couldn't see his face. The light of the hall really didn't help. But he realized that the man's clothes seemed fancy, of brand. All his skin was hidden, he wore even gloves. The small bag was his only luggage.  
“I am sorry, this place really is not big.”, he said, after showing all rooms to his new roommate. “We have two beds, since it was really meant for two people, but only one bedroom and one bathroom. I hope you don't mind.”  
“I really don't. Thank you.”  
“Well, welcome. I am Iman, by the way.”  
“Erik.”, the man simply replied.  
In the light, Iman realized that it wasn't a shadow that covered the man's face, but a black mask. All he could see was his lower lip, his chin, and his eyes. His skin was very pale, and his eyes were light blue. He took off his gloves, revealing long and thin fingers, with well cared nails. Iman caught himself staring, there was some elegance in the way Erik moved his hands. It was almost hypnotizing.  
“If this bothers you, I don't mind sleeping in the couch.”, said Erik in a very low voice.  
“Don't worry. It will be nice having someone around. It can get lonely sometimes.”  
And he was not lying.  
He realized Erik seemed uncomfortable. He wanted to break the awkward silence that formed, but didn't know what to say. Though he was very curious about him, all questions he imagined sounded rude in his head. He ended up trying what he thought to be a harmless sentence.  
“Make yourself at home.”  
Erik simply nodded.  
“It's cold. You should take a bath first.”, after some thought, Iman added: “If you need some clean clothes, you can borrow mine.”  
“It's okay.”  
It was only later, when they were going to sleep, that Iman could take a look at the mysterious man's face. Erik's sleeping clothes still covered most of him (meanwhile Iman slept shirtless no matter the weather), but now he showed his white short hair, and his face was not covered by the mask anymore. But he was quick to jump on his bed, under the sheets, facing the wall. Iman felt bad for all the staring, and promised to himself he would stop, but he couldn't control his curiosity so easily.  
This was the start of an unexpected friendship. During the first months, Iman could easily forget he had a roommate. Erik was silent, and always kept everything he touched clean. He didn't even eat much and always left Iman alone while he was studying. He spent the whole day looking for a job, but didn't seem to have much luck in that.  
Iman did try often to talk with him, but he was very good at running away from questions. It took him long to learn even a bit of Erik's story.  
Erik always wore clothes that covered everything, even when it was hot. He also never left home without the mask. Iman heard him telling the owner some times that it was for medical reasons. Though his pale skin really seemed sensitive enough for it to be true, Iman suspected the main reason was shame for what he looked like. He couldn't be blamed for it.  
Also, it seemed Erik had no friends or family. He never mentioned anyone, never received any calls in his old cellphone and didn't carry any items that seemed to remind him of someone special. His belongings were few, just some clothes that were good but plain, and the old phone.  
After six months, he still didn't had a job. Iman didn't mind much paying for the rent alone, but he was starting to worry about what he has gotten himself into. But it was hard to believe that Erik was trying to take advantage of him, as he seemed very uncomfortable receiving the help.  
Iman didn't see when it started, but was glad when he realized Erik finally found a way to get some income. He started fixing things, from toys and clothes to phones and computers. The money he got was not always enough for his living expenses but it eased Iman's worries, and he was more than glad to fill the holes.  
It seemed that Erik also appreciated not depending completely on his roommate anymore, as he became more open. Now Iman could understand him better.  
Erik was an orphan, never even met his parents. He was eventually adopted by someone but he rarely talked about them. They seemed to be wealthy, but even so Erik left their home as soon as he was of age, with just a few belongings and a little money. He never completed high school, and had very little interaction with people his age.  
Iman also shared with him his own story, the hardships he felt living in a foreign country, but how he loved it even so. Still, he also had a hard time socializing and had few friends.  
They could relate to each other, both knowing loneliness.  
After living together for one year, Iman learned just how moody and sarcastic Erik could be, and he sometimes missed having a silent and polite roommate. But he secretly enjoyed that he could be so open to him now. He learned that the “medical reasons” were, in Erik's words, “complete bull poo”, and that his insecurity about his own appearance was a bit different from what he first imagined.  
It was a friday night. The two were full of junk food and soda (none of them drank alcohol). The tv was on, showing some sport they didn't understand or care about.  
“I am not sick, you know.”, Erik said, his tone suddenly serious. A pause. “No, I mean, I am. I have a lot of sickness.”, he laughed.  
Iman laughed too. He knew about Erik's messy health.  
“But my face is not. Not a disease. I am just very, very ugly.”, he continued, serious and very calm. “It's not contagious, and I am not some poor unfortunate creature that needs to be protected and pitied.”, his voice raised and lowered as he spoke, as he got carried away but quickly controled himself. “I am just ugly. Just that. It's okay to say it. It's not some cursed word or whatever.”  
“It sounds like a mean thing to say.”, said Iman.  
“Well, I mean, it is. But it's not like I can pretend it's not true. I look in the mirror everyday, damn it. I would rather they said it in my face then give me that look.”  
“What look?”  
“That look. The look that you give when you see a cat dying in the middle of the road. You feel sorry, because you have to. But you won't do anything to help it. You feel like it's not your responsability, you tell yourself that it's too late anyway. So you just… stare at it, with this pitiful look, until it's out of your sight and you move on.”, Erik sighed. “That's how everyone looks at me. 'Ah, that poor deformed albino. How hard must life be for him'. It is. It is damn hard, thank you very much. Can you think of something else now?” Another sigh. “It just feels like I can't be anything else. That everything I become will always start with 'poor deformed albino'. I just wished that for once someone would just say 'Wow, you're really ugly', and then we would laugh and… eat some hot dogs or something. Like normal people.”  
Iman was speechless. He wanted to ask but couldn't. Do I look at you this way too? He knew the answer. He did.  
“You know, I actually think you look decent.”, he said, after a long pause, very serious.  
Erik raised a eyebrow at him.  
“When I look at your back, of course.”  
Erik laughed. A true, long laugh.  
“I have never been close enough to anyone for this kind of thing.”, he confessed.  
“We sleep in the same room, you better get used to it.”, Iman replied.  
And then they ate some more chips, and make some more jokes about the game. Like normal people.  
The next day, Erik acted as if the whole rant never happened, but Iman realized they were much closer and more comfortable around each other than before. He started making jokes about Erik's appearance, and though they were replied with insults and “shut up”s, he noticed a shine in his eyes. He realized that by treating it naturally, they somehow could look at each other more like equals.  
Iman did all he could to help Erik to get more clients for his “job”. He also told him of just every free course he could find. Erik liked learning.  
  
Iman had to call Erik a few times to get his attention.  
“What is it?”, he asked, a little annoyed that he had to pause his music.  
“I need to talk to you.”, said Iman, sitting down in front of Erik. “As you know, I now graduated, and will start working in two weeks.”  
“I know.”, Erik replied. “You are a lawyer now.”  
Iman smiled, before getting serious again.  
“I am moving, Erik.”  
Erik's expression suddenly became of worry.  
“What? Why?”  
“I am not spending my whole life in this place.”  
“Where are you going? Are you going back to your country?”  
“No, no. I am staying in the town. Just moving to a better place. Bigger. More comfortable.”, Iman explained. He could see sadness in Erik's face and maybe… fear?  
“Well, you deserve it.”, he finally replied, looking away.  
Iman nodded. He was afraid of saying the next words, afraid of the reaction he would receive. Afraid he could be misunderstood. Taking a deep breath, he said them:  
“Erik, do you want to come with me?”  
Erik looked at him in shock, and Iman couldn't say if it was in a good or bad way. Before any reply came, he continued:  
“I mean, we spent a long time sharing a home already. I think it would feel bad to suddenly live alone again. And the place is much better and each could have his room and… I think you would like it there.”, he was nervous. “I hope this doesn't sound weird. I mean. I understand if you don't want to. I-”  
“Yeah.”, Erik interrupted him.  
“What?”  
“Yeah, I will move with you. It sounds fun. Plus, who will fix your computer next time you get a virus if I am not there?”  
“Hey, it was only one time!”  
“Yeah, and I know what you were doing to get that.”, Erik rolled his eyes.  
Iman was relieved. He felt like the moment they stopped living together, Erik would be out of his life forever and he didn't want that. He was not ready for it. He was a bit strange and a bit annoying sometimes, but he was a good friend, he kept the house clean, and he was very interesting to talk to. Iman couldn't think of anyone he would rather live with.


	3. Chapter 3

Christine considered herself to be brave. Even when she was a child, when other girls her age screamed at frogs and rats and spiders, she actually found them to be kinda cute. As a teenager, she watched all the serial killer and zombie movies, and often laughed at them. When an amusement park came to the town, she went to the big roller coaster ten times, while her mother was freaking out.  
Some of her friends even thought nothing could scare her, but they were wrong. There was one thing she was scared of: the supernatural, the unknown.  
Christine was not really a believer. She was the first in her class that stopped believing in Santa and the Easter Bunny. She knew most supernatural stories were invented and she knew people had a lot of tricks to scare others. She was not even religious: she actually shocked her family in a holiday, when she was only 9, when she first said she was atheist, and she never went back on her word.  
But deep inside she knew there were things that had no explanation, and things that were still unknown to humans, and those could keep her up at night sometimes. She knew there were no monsters under her bed, but they could be somewhere else.


	4. Chapter 4

In the earlier 20s, there was a mayor who was really in love with Europe. Everything he build in town, he built inspired in an European style.  
He was the one who planned and built the Palace of the Arts, or “The European Theatre”. Inspired by the big theatres of the old continent, but much smaller. Still, he wanted it to be as beautiful, and spent all money he could with it.  
He wasn't really a good mayor. He was said to have stolen a lot while in power, and his fancy buildings were never what the town needed.  
The Palace is his big legacy, and though it seems a impressive one, it really isn't. It has always been overall too expensive, the bills too high. Bringing great plays is too expensive. Tickets ended up too expensive. Many people still went to the performances at first, to seem intelectual mostly. But not many were really interested in the classical plays that the mayor wanted there. After a new months it started to be hard to keep a public.  
The administration really tried. Lowering tickets prices, diversificating the style of plays. Still, it costed too much to keep, and the gain was too small.  
If the former mayor saw the state his beloved Palace is nowadays, he would cry. And it would probably be closed forever, if it wasn't for the dream of a young artist.  
Every since she was little, Christine would pass in front of the Palace of the Arts everyday when going to school. It was already in bad conditions then, but it still lit a flame in the girl's heart. She daydreamed about what it looked like when it opened, about what it would look like in its full glory. She dreamed of performing there one day.  
Christine was talented. She was in every school play, and when she was 13 her parents found a teacher who gave singing classes for an affordable price. She had a beautiful voice and loved singing more than anything.  
She was also what people called “stubborn”. She dreamed about performing in that place, and no one would stop her. At the age of 21, she one day decided to go to the City Hall to ask about the Palace, and her parents almost had to pick her up from the jail. She fortunately didn't get to be arrested, but it was close. And she got what she wanted. Christine had a permission to use the Palace if she could pay the bills. She knew it would be hard but it didn't make her less happy.  
That's how The Last Hope was born. Christine called everyone she knew who had a bit of inclination to the arts to help, from her high school class and from her singing class. A small group of actors and musicians, that didn't have the right size or formation to be called anything. Together they started raising the money, with performances and internet campaigns.  
The Last Hope was now four years old, and it was harder than Christine could imagine. They still could use the Palace, even if sometimes they had to pay from their own pockets to complete the money. Most of what they got was from donations, and they all had other jobs since they didn't get a penny from this work. They would always say the next month things would go better, that they would finally be able to do some of the restorations that the Palace needed. And it always had to wait the next month.  
They would often have auditions, since many people left. Christine was very frustrated with it, but the people who did stay revealed to be some of the most loyal and trustful people she ever knew. She considered them more than friends, they were almost a second family to her.  
Christine's family supported her, sometimes even giving money when she needed, but they hoped she would give up soon. For them, she had talent to be in a better place and was wasting that in a hopeless dream.  
  
“Remind me why I am doing this, Meg.”  
“Because you love me?”  
Raoul sighed. Meg was right. He loved her as if she was his own sister, and he would do anything for her, including this.  
Meg was only one year younger than him, and a bit taller, with her 1,75 m. She had light skin and long black hair. Her legs were thin and long, and she was a bit self conscious about her height. Raoul saw no reason for her to be.  
Raoul was a blond 22 years old who looked younger. It bothered him to be mistaken by a teenager, and it happened quite often. He was the youngest son of a very rich family of German origin.  
Meg was the daughter of a woman who worked for his family. Because of their close age, they soon became friends. Raoul actually sometimes felt closer to her than to his own sisters. Because of him, his parents paid a few things for Meg, including her singing lessons.  
Raoul never thought he would regret it, but now he did a bit. Meg wanted to join some sort of band called “The Last Hope”, and it was her audition day. Raoul had no doubt she would pass it, but Meg was very nervous. So, she asked her childhood friend, her heart brother, to go with her.  
The problem was that Raoul hated music.  
He didn't want to met these people who lived and breathed music. He was polite and didn't like offending people, so he would have no choice but to lie.  
That was Meg's world, not his.  
But he loved her, and would do anything for her, including this.  
And her smile made it worth it.  
  
The two arrived the European Theatre. Raoul could not understand why anyone would still want to go to that place. Sure, it may have been beautiful once, but now it was in a terrible state. Most of the original painting have faded, and some young delinquents painted some profanities on the front. There were cracks everywhere, as if it could fall apart any second. Raoul heard it had been abandoned for many years (and if he was to be honest it still looked like it was), and kids used to say it was haunted.  
Not really knowing what he got himself into, Raoul followed Meg inside. At least she was happy, almost shinning, but also very nervous about her audition.  
When they arrived the big hall, a short woman walked to them. She was black, her short hair not touching her shoulders. She wore a plain blue dress, and there was such grace in the way she walked and moved. Raoul had never seen this woman before, but Meg waved to her.  
“You must be Christine, right?”  
“Yes. Are you Margaret?”  
“Yes. And please, call me Meg.”  
Raoul did hear their introduction, but didn't pay attention to the words. His mind was completely focused on the woman in front of him, her every small gesture almost hypnotizing him. What did she say her name was?  
“And you are?”  
It took him some seconds to realize she talked to him.  
“Ah, I am Raoul.”  
“Are you here for an audition too?”  
“No, no. Just accompanying my dear Meg.”  
Christine nodded.  
“We are always accepting so… if you happen to have some secret talent, feel free to contact us.”  
Raoul could only nod. His mouth was slightly open. Christine couldn't help but giggle at his behaviour. When she turned around, Meg let out a silent laugh.  
“Stop flirting, Raoul!”, she whispered.  
“I am not flirting!”, he whispered back.  
“Also, we always accept donations.”, said Christine. There was a big smile on her face, the whole situation amusing her. “Please follow me, I am gonna introduce you to some of the guys who are around today.”  
They entered the auditorium, Meg and Raoul following Christine. Raoul was really surprised at himself. He has seen beautiful women before, and he has had crushes before, but no one made him act as such as fool as he was now in front of Christine. She was beautiful, but not in an abnormal way, and so far he only exchanged a few words with her. There was no reason for her to affect him so deeply so soon. What was this spark?  
A few people were sitting in the lower level of the audience.  
“Guys!”, called Christine. All looked at her direction, except for one guy that wore big headphones. A girl sitting besides him poked his shoulder, making him turn too. "This is Meg. She came for an audition. And this is her… friend? Brother? Boyfriend?"  
“Only friend.”, explained Meg. She winked to Raoul.  
Christine started introducing the members of “The Last Hope” that were there. The guy with headphones, a tall and thin brunette, was Kenneth, the male lead singer and violin player. The girl besides him, with long black hair tied behind her head, and wearing a shinning pink jacket, was Carlotta, the female lead singer. Behind her, two girls whispered to each other. One of them was really short, had green eyes, some freckles covering her cheeks, and short light brown hair. Her name was Cécile. The other had a very serious expression, dark skin, curly hair and wore a cropped top and yoga pants, that showed her well-defined body. Christine introduced her as Sorelli.  
“Is that your first name or last name?”, Meg asked, curious.  
“Yes.”, she replied, serious.  
Both Cécile and Sorelli were backup singers. Cécile also played the cello, and Sorelli was a “passionate dancer”, though they didn't perform any dance in The Lat Hope.  
Beside Sorelli, sat a short man. He had dark hair and blue eyes, and a heavy body. His name was Carlos, a backup singer. Finally, on his side sat a tall dark skinned man, that showed Meg a kind smile. He was Antonio, another backup singer.  
After introducing everyone, Christine offered Raoul a seat, and told Meg to go on stage. Raoul noticed that the fabric of the seats was really old and worn. He avoided looking at Christine, afraid he would stare. He really couldn't understand why she attracted him so much, it was something he didn't remember ever feeling before.  
Raoul wished he was paying more attention to Meg singing, but that was something he had seen many times before. As much as he tried to avoid, his full attention was on Christine.


	5. Chapter 5

Christine was packing her things to go home.   
“Did you know that guy?”, asked Carlotta.  
“Who?”, Christine asked back.  
“You know. The guy who came to watch his friend.”, she made air quotes as she said it. “But stayed for the whole auditions.”  
Christine shook her head.  
“Never saw before.”  
“He was totally trying to flirt.”, said Antonio. “And he's not good at it.”  
“Flirt with me?”, Christine asked, laughing.  
“He wouldn't stop staring at you.”, explained Antonio.  
“He was not flirting!”, said Carlotta. “He was staring, but it was like… you know, when you see someone you haven't seen in a long time, and you want to know if it's really who you thought it was? It seemed like he knew you.”  
“He probably mistook me for someone else.”, Christine shrugged.  
Carlotta was going to say something, but a loud song interrupted her before she said the first word.  
“Kenneth!”, she shouted. “I told you this song and all variations of it were banned from this theatre!”  
“Calm down, it's just my ringtone.”, Kenneth explained, picking up his phone.  
“It hurts my ear!”, Carlotta kept shouting, even as Kenneth walked away. “Ugh I hate this song.”  
Christine just laughed. She was not fond of it either but she wouldn't go as far as banning it. Having someone like Carlotta around was sure good.  
“I would not be surprised”, said Antonio. “If that guy showed up again to see his friend.”, air quotes.  
Christine didn't find the idea so bad.

Christine and Carlotta walked home together. They lived just across the street from each other, so they had the habit of walking together, talking and laughing about silly things.  
It was curious that they grew up so close, and went to the same school, but never really paid attention to each other until The Last Hope.   
People often asked Christine why she wasn't the female lead singer herself, being the one who created The Last Hope and having such a good voice. She always ran away from this question.  
Carlotta joined the group in the early days, and was always loyal to it. Besides The Last Hope, she also had somewhat of a fame online. She was proud of all her followers, and her cover videos always did well. She could do better than working to save a decadent theatre, but she gave her everything to the cause. She even used her online fame to raise awareness. Christine and all the others knew that in some months, her help was what made the difference.  
There were just a few more blocks left to walk, when Carlotta suddenly said:  
“We didn't find someone to replace Phil.”  
“Piano.”, Christine said. Carlotta gave her a questioning look. “I think you meant 'someone to play the piano'. When you say it like that, it sounds like we need Phil.”  
“Well, we do.”  
Carlotta knew that the subject made Christine upset, but they couldn't pretend nothing happened.  
“No, we don't.”, was Christine's reply. “Phil was a good player, but we can do just fine without him.”  
“Chris…”  
“He's an asshole!”, she exclaimed. “I don't want to even hear his name! We are gonna find another damn piano, and if we don't we can do fucking well without it!”  
Carlotta sighed.  
“Like you say, Chris.”  
By then they already arrived. With a short goodnight, each walked to her home.


	6. Chapter 6

Iman wasn't a big fan of pizza, but one of his best friends owned a pizzeria, so he saw himself eating it pretty often.  
Darius was a Iranian-Italian in his late thirties, a little grumpy sometimes but very gentle. His pizza was really good, and the place had a quiet and welcoming atmosphere. Iman liked it there.  
“Iman, my friend! Welcome! Table for one?”  
“I would like to sit by the counter, thank you.”, Iman replied.  
“Come in, come in.”  
Iman took his seat, keeping an eye on his phone. He had sent a text to Erik earlier but his roommate had still to reply. He knew Erik was probably distracted with whatever it was that he did all day locked at home, but he was still a bit worried.  
Iman placed his order and chatted a bit with Darius, asked about his wife and about the business. Darius asked him about his job and if he got rid of Erik yet. Iman didn't understand why his friend seemed to dislike Erik so much, having met him just a couple times.  
A waiter walked to Darius, a worried expression on his face.  
“Sir! It's code C-I-R-C-U-S.”  
“What?”, asked Darius, turning to his wall clock. “It's just 1 pm. What are they doing here?”  
“Who is here?”, Iman asked.  
Just as he finished saying it, the bell on the door rang and entered a big group. Darius sighed.  
“The circus.”  
“What?”, Iman could not be more confused. He watched the group moving some tables together to sit. Maybe some of those faces were familiar, but he didn't remember seeing a group like this before.  
“Do you know that abandoned theatre a few blocks from here?”  
“Of course I do.”  
“Well, these kids work there or something. Whoever goes there, I don't even know.”, mumbled Darius. "They come here at night every week. It seems this is their 'luck pizza' or whatever."  
“That's great!”, said Iman.  
“That's not great. They are loud, and scare other costumers!”  
“Can't you ask them to be quiet?”, Iman suggested.  
“I do! But they don't listen.”  
“At least it's good for business, right? Having this many people regularly coming.”  
“It's not.”, Darius sighed. “They don't even pay.”  
“What? Why do you serve them, if they don't even pay? I am sure you could call the police.”  
“Because I have no choice!”, Darius sighed. “See that girl? The blonde one, in all black?”, Iman saw her. “She plays a… a horn or something. Her father works for the sanitary surveillance. When I refused to let them in because they don't pay… they came here the very next day. Caused me a lot of trouble.”  
“Well, but-”, Iman tried to reason, but Darius interrupted them.  
“And also most of them are related or friends with my waiters, my cooks, and my clients! They could ruin me!”  
“But I'm sure-”  
“Plus! The boy with green hair? His parents lead the Neighbors Association. You know, to open a business here, you have to sign a paper to them. Well, I did. Green boy's mother came to me and showed me there was a line that said one of the goals was 'supporting culture and education'. It seems that giving free pizzas to these delinquents is supporting culture and education now.”  
“This… is quite a story.”, Iman said, unbelieving. “So they just come, eat and don't pay?”  
“They argue that they pay, just not with money.”  
“What do you mean?”  
Darius took some papers from behind the counter.  
“This.”, he put the papers in front of Iman.  
“Coupons?”  
“Coupons. See: '15% off on aromatic candles'. Cut from a magazine. 'Buy one shirt get one free'. Printed from the internet.”  
“Woah.”  
One of the girls in the said group, a shortie with light brown hair and freckles, raised her hand.  
“Darius! Where is our lucky man?”  
Darius sighed for the n-th time. He walked to their table(s).  
Iman just stared at the coupons, unbelieving. That was ridiculous. And to think even their families helped… this was a crime!  
Going through the coupons, he found a couple of papers that stood out.  
Darius came back, first leaving the orders at the kitchen, then going back to Iman.  
“See the nightmare I'm in?”, he complained.  
“Indeed. What are these?”, Iman showed him the papers.  
“These? Tickets for the thing they do.”  
“Are you going? It's tomorrow.”  
“No way. I don't want to get anymore involved with them.”, there was clear grudge in the way Darius said “them”.  
“What exactly do they do?”  
“No idea, my friend. I don't know and I don't care.”  
“May I have these? I think I know someone who could enjoy it.” And it would be great to make him leave home for a change, Iman added in his mind.  
“You can have all of them, it's not like they are of any use for me.”  
Iman smiled. Erik was into this stuff, wasn't him? He would always take a good look at the abandoned theatre. Maybe it was worth a try.


End file.
